


you'd fly with me

by eugyne (AreteNike)



Series: Good, Bad, or Rocket Science [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Post S2, Slow Burn, but shiro is back, canon compliant except that they use real swears lol, everything but the last scene is basically platonic, practically just one neverending conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 22:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11450652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreteNike/pseuds/eugyne
Summary: It's a year in space before Lance admits aloud that he does not, in fact, hate Keith.





	you'd fly with me

**Author's Note:**

> bruh im busy as hell with zine things and big bangs and whatnot but i havent written basically any klance since tvi ended and i guess i was in withdrawal or smth bc this took hold of my brain and wouldnt let go until i finished (big problem). so here it is. not my usual thing, but eh, hope u enjoy.

"You know what, Keith?" Lance says. "I don't hate you."

Keith pulls off his helmet and stares at him. They've just returned to the hangar after battle, and not even one with many interactions between them; this comment comes out of absolutely nowhere, as far as he can tell. He glances around and catches Shiro's eye; Shiro shrugs.

"Uh," says Keith. "Thanks?" He's happy enough to hear it, but without knowing what's made Lance change his mind he doesn't know whether to believe it.

Lance's face falls. "That's it?"

"...I don't hate you, too?"

Lance sighs. Hunk and Shiro are already on their way out, but Pidge remains, watching them and smirking.

"This isn't the reaction I expected," says Lance.

"I don't know what you were expecting," Keith says, "but I'm glad you're finally over yourself." He turns to go.

"Wha—hey, wait! What's that supposed to mean?" Lance calls behind him. "Hey!"

At the doorway, Pidge says, "Nice," and holds out her fist.

He stares at it. "...What's that for?"

"You bump it with your fist. Like a really gentle punch."

He does, and she grins.

"We'll make a teenager of you yet, Keith," she says, and heads out. Keith turns to Lance, who has now caught up to him.

"Do you know what that fist thing was?" he asks. If it's a "teenager thing," Lance will know.

Lance blinks at him, but then he laughs, which isn't really a useful answer.

"Is that a yes?" Keith adds.

"Yeah, yeah, dude." Lance finally gets his giggles under control. "It's called a fist bump. Here."

He holds out his fist. When Keith bumps it, though, Lance wiggles his hand back and makes a noise in his throat. Keith stares.

"You gotta do the explosion thing too, buddy. Like, you go in—" He sticks out his fist again, and Keith pushes his own against it. "—and then you blow it up!" He makes the noise again and wiggles his fingers.

"...Boom?" says Keith, and wiggles his fingers a bit.

"...We'll work on it," says Lance, and he leaves. Keith looks down at his hand. Is this a thing friends do? They're friends, right? If Lance doesn't hate him anymore—if he ever actually did—they must be. That's good.

If they're going to be friends, though, Keith needs to figure Lance out, because he's pretty sure he's supposed to understand his friends. And he doesn't understand Lance in the slightest.

* * *

"'Sup?"

Keith looks up from his tablet as Lance slides down onto the sofa, right next to him. Lance grins, but doesn't say anything.

"What're you doing?" Keith asks.

"Uh, hanging out with you?" Lance rests his ankle on his opposite knee and leans back, spreading his arms across the back of the sofa so that one hand rests just next to Keith's neck.

Keith glances around, expecting some sort of trick. "Really?"

"Dude, I _said_ I didn't hate you. To your face."

"I know," Keith says slowly, "but that doesn't explain why you're here."

"Well, now that everyone knows I don't hate you, there's no reason I can't hang out with you if I want to." He pauses. "Unless _you_ don't want to? I guess that'd be understandable." He brings his arms back into his lap and slumps. "I was kind of an ass."

Keith's mouth falls open. Lance? Admitting he's less than perfect?

Lance stares at him a moment; then his face darkens and he throws his hands in the air.

"Ohh, god!" he yells. "Lance is self-aware! Lance can admit to being wrong about things sometimes! Huge shocker! I'll just fucking go!" He starts to climb up and out of the sofa ring.

That means… shit. Lance _actually did_ just want to hang out. Which means Keith fucked up. He jerks into motion.

"Wait, no, shit, come back." He grabs Lance's retreating ankle. "Lance!"

"I know when I'm not wanted, dude!"

Lance tries to shake him free, but loses his balance and topples with a yelp. Keith starts reeling him in.

"Get down here and hang out with me, asshole." He's not going to ruin their budding friendship _now._

" _You're_ an asshole!"

"I'm your friend! I'm being friendly!"

Lance tries to push Keith's hands off his leg with his foot—but not to the point of actually kicking him, Keith notes. And his grimace is twitching into a smile. _Yes._

"You hate me!"

"I don't hate you! I'm trying to hang out with you!"

Keith has a grip on Lance's belt loop now and is in real danger of pantsing him, except that his other hand is fisted in Lance's shirt.

"Let go!"

"Never!"

He's having the time of his life.

"You're pulling my pants down!"

"Then get down here with them!"

Keith throws his whole weight into pulling Lance back down, and succeeds, only to topple backward off the sofa himself. He clambers up as Lance is struggling to pull his pants back up the three inches they slipped, and plops himself right onto Lance's stomach, crossing his arms and glaring down at him. Lance groans at the weight.

"Stay _put_ ," Keith grits, delighted. " _Friend_."

"Ass. _Bony_ ass."

In the process of sitting on Lance, Keith has also managed to trap one of Lance's arms with his legs. Lance shoves at him with the other one—still obviously trying not to smile—and Keith leans into it, rendering it ineffective.

Then Lance twists to the side, tilting Keith right off onto the floor. He scrambles for the back of the sofa to try and keep himself up but only succeeds in pulling Lance down with him; Lance barely misses getting a faceful of floor, and Keith gets a knee in his side for his troubles.

Lance rolls over, and now he's on _Keith's_ stomach, upside down with his legs still up on the sofa. Both lay still for a moment, panting.

"I changed my mind," Lance puffs. "I do hate you."

Keith frees the hand that Lance was using as a pillow—making him yelp as his head slides onto the floor with a thump—and prods him in the side with it. "Hate you too."

Lance grabs his wrist, pushing it as far as he can reach away from his side so that Keith's hand is curled up at his shoulder. When Keith frees his other hand from the gap between his hip and the sofa and digs his fingers into Lance's side, Lance grabs it too, holding it awkwardly above his torso with his far hand. Keith lets him, biting back his grin.

"I win," says Lance, and then he laughs.

Keith hardly notices the warmth in his chest at the sound, mostly because Lance's laughter makes his spine dig further into Keith's abdomen, and he makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh.

"Heh. You sound like a dying whale."

"Thanks," Keith wheezes.

"Oh, am I too heavy for you?"

"You're bony."

"You're one to talk."

"Get off."

"Hell no."

Keith wrenches his hand free—the one hovering above Lance's stomach—and uses it to try and push him off. Lance squirms and swats at him.

"Stop!"

"Off!"

"Ugh, fine."

Lance rolls away. Keith sits up slowly; he finds Lance sitting opposite him. The grin on his face is blinding.

Keith isn't very surprised to find he's grinning, too.

"I'm glad you don't hate me," he says.

"Gross," says Lance, and kicks him—barely more than a nudge, really. But he's still grinning.

* * *

"Keith," says Lance, standing in the training deck doorway. "You hate me after all, don't you."

"No?" Didn't they get this sorted out yesterday? Keith spares him a glance before he brings his bayard down on the gladiator's shoulder and ducks away. "What makes you think that?"

"You're just…" Lance waves a hand at him and doesn't continue.

"I can't read your mind, Lance." Keith finishes with an upward slice, and the gladiator clatters to the ground. He doesn't start the next round, though he's barely started training; instead, he puts his bayard away and heads over to join Lance at the door.

"I mean…" Lance scratches his head. "You're just very casual about this friendship thing."

Keith frowns. "Isn't friendship _supposed_ to be casual?"

"That's not… I mean, you barely even reacted. Except for the play-wrestling thing, and that made me think you _did_ want to be friends, but otherwise you don't seem very… enthused."

Keith considers himself pretty happy—if confused—about this development, actually. "I don't?"

"No! You haven't, I dunno, come found me to hang out, or whatever."

Keith has the feeling there's more to this than Lance is saying, but hell if he knows what. "It's only been two days? And I don't know where to find you, because you used to avoid me."

"See, that's what I mean!" Lance points at him. "That snide little comment like you're making fun of me for trying. Or when you were so surprised the other day! It doesn't seem like you wanna be friends."

Keith is boggled. "I really don't know what you mean. I do want to be friends."

"Then why aren't you acting like it?"

"How am I not!?"

"You aren't! Not even a _little!_ "

"We hung out _yesterday,_ didn't we?"

"You sat on me!"

"You sat on me too!"

"You started it!"

Keith flings out his arms. "How am I supposed to act, then? What do you want!?"

"Augh, you don't get it!" Lance drags his hands down his face. "I know it's _weird_ for me to just—be your friend, just like that, but I'm trying, okay!? I'm trying." He looks down and sniffles angrily. "You don't even care."

He swipes at his eyes and Keith reflexively grabs his hands. Lance looks back up at him, startled.

"It's not weird to be my friend," Keith says. "I kind of thought we were friends already, except you pretended we weren't."

Lance sniffles again. "Fuck you."

"I'm serious. Didn't you say once that we make a good team?"

His face scrunches up. "That was so long ago."

"Well it never stopped being true."

"That's not the same as friendship."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't."

Keith squeezes his hands, frustrated. He's been thinking about this—thinking back about their interactions, and coming to some conclusions—but how can he make Lance _see?_

"It is. It's like…" He huffs. "Like forming Voltron. You have to work together, right? But it's more than that, because Voltron is a feeling, too. You have to feel it."

"...You're not making any sense."

"Ugh, okay." Keith looks away, searching for words. "In the middle of battle, when you're not acting, that's when we get along best, right? When you're being you, and not fake-you."

Lance blinks at him, and then his face scrunches up again. "For someone as bad at people as you are, that was weirdly perceptive. Or completely batshit, I can't tell."

"I'm not _that_ bad at people. I figured out Pidge was a girl before you did."

"Yeah, but you knew Matt."

"...Yeah, I did. Whatever. You're loud until you're not, so I wanted to figure out why."

Lance squints at him. "I don't understand your brain."

"I don't understand yours."

"Pfft." Lance tugs his hands free of Keith's and wipes his eyes again. "I guess it's not weird you're being kind of insensitive about this, then."

"Wha… I am?"

"Yeah! I come to you with my concerns and start—practically crying, and you're just…" He flaps a hand at Keith.

"I… don't understand why you're upset?" Now Keith is really lost. "Because it's hard for you to be friends with me? You don't _have_ to. We can go back to being rivals or whatever if you want." Not that _he_ wants that.

"No! I want to be friends."

Good. "Then what's the problem?"

Lance takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I really have to spell it out for you, huh?"

"Please."

He sighs and looks away. "I care about what people think of me—unlike you, apparently—and so I don't like changing my mind about things, because it ruins my perfect 'act,' as you called it. And then you don't even seem interested. Okay?"

"Okay. But I do want to be your friend." Keith pauses. "...If I figured out you were acting, everyone else probably already knew."

"I _know_ that, up here." Lance taps his head. "But not in here." He taps his chest and folds his arms. He still isn't looking at Keith.

Instinct, not logic. "I get that."

Lance sniffles.

"Are you mad, or just upset?"

"...I'm not mad."

"...Do you want a hug?"

"...Kinda."

Keith holds out his arms, and Lance unfolds into them, wrapping his own around Keith's neck. Keith hooks his chin over Lance's shoulder and gives his back a couple pats, because that's what you do in a hug, right?

It's warm and nice, even if Lance is all corners and sniffling in his ear. Keith makes a mental note to do more hugs.

"Is this enough?" he asks after a bit.

"Ten more seconds," says Lance. His hand travels up and down the upper part of Keith's back a couple of times. "Your spine is really bumpy."

"So is yours."

"Heh."

* * *

"I've been thinking about what you said," says Lance by way of greeting, standing in the doorway to Keith's room.

Keith raises an eyebrow. "I've said a lot of things."

"No shit. I mean about the… fake-me thing."

"Okay?"

"Well, you're wrong."

Keith frowns. "No, you act differently—"

"Yeah, I do, but that doesn't mean it's fake!" Lance pats his chest. "There's no 'me' and 'fake-me.' There's… there's loud-me and quiet-me. Fun-me and serious-me. But they're all still me."

Keith doesn't follow. "But you don't act like yourself."

"But I do!" Lance tugs at his hair. "Ugh, I forgot your brain is weird, how do I put this. Look, if I'm acting a certain way, that's how _I'm_ acting."

"...Yeah?"

"So it's still me, right? The way I act around people is just the way I act around people. That doesn't mean it's fake. Don't you act differently around people?"

Keith thinks about it. He talks more around people, sure, but not much more, and if he talked as much alone he'd be talking to himself. He's pretty sure that doesn't count.

"Not… really?"

"Okay, well, just in different situations, then. Like… like talking to Shiro versus talking to Iverson."

Keith makes a face. "Yeah. I hated Iverson."

Lance grins. "Didn't we all?"

"So… when you're acting, that's real too."

"Yes!"

"So you _weren't_ just pretending to hate me?"

Lance slaps a hand to his face. "No! I thought we went over that already! I _was_ pretending, that's a different thing. The point is there's only me, because people naturally act differently in different situations. Look, ask Shiro about it if you don't believe me."

"I believe you," Keith responds immediately. As far as he can tell, Lance only lies to impress someone or to save face; he's pretty sure this isn't the former. It could be the latter, but he has a feeling it isn't.

"Okay… so you get it?"

"...No."

"Urgh." Lance's other hand joins the first.

"But I don't think you're lying," Keith adds, and Lance peers at him through his hands. He lowers them slowly, and grins.

"I'll take it," he says.

* * *

"Keith, I have a very important question."

Keith grunts as he shoves away a twitching galran drone and dives for the next. "How important?"

"Life or death."

Keith's chest tightens. "What is it?"

"Do you like pineapple on pizza?"

Keith actually pauses in the middle of stabbing a drone, wondering if he's heard correctly. He replays the questions in his head a few times as he resumes the fight.

"You're right," he says finally. "That _is_ a life or death question."

"Ha!"

"Because I'm going to murder you next time I see you."

Lance laughs, long and loud. Keith keeps fighting with a grin on his face.

* * *

"Yes, by the way," Keith says later, when they're both standing vigil in the infirmary. This time it's Hunk in the healing pod.

"Yes what?"

"Pineapple on pizza. I like it."

Lance heaves a dramatic sigh and taps the glass of the pod.

"I guess if I can forgive it of the big guy, I have to forgive you for it too," he says.

* * *

"I think I didn't actually _want_ a big reaction," says Lance. "I just expected one. Does that make sense?"

Keith sought him out this time, but for lack of ideas on how to hang out, they'd wandered until they found this room with its massive window and cushioned bench. Now they're lounging with the lights off, watching the stars go by.

"Not even a little."

"I knew you were gonna say that." Lance shifts a little. "Maybe I was looking for validation. I dunno."

"That's consistent with my understanding of your personality."

"Ugh, why do you sound like Pidge?"

"I do hang out with her."

That gives Lance pause.

"We've been out here a year," Keith adds. "Just because you avoided me doesn't mean everyone did."

"...Huh." Lance is quiet. "I mean, yeah, obviously, but… huh."

"We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Shit, yeah, we do. Okay, bring on the existentialism and deep questions and shit. Late night sleepover stuff. Get it out of the way."

"Okay." Keith gestures out at the stars. "So, do you think there's life beyond our solar system?"

"Wh—are you—" There's a rustle as Lance turns his head. The room is dim but Keith's pretty sure his grin is visible. "You were joking. That was a joke. Oh my god."

"I do that sometimes."

"Shit, dude."

Keith grins wider and looks at him. "Me and Hunk get into pun wars occasionally."

Lance stares at him.

"...Fuck. I can't tell if you're being serious or not."

"Ask him about it."

"I will!"

* * *

" _Keith_ I asked Hunk about the pun wars and holy shit. You weren't kidding."

"Of course not. I wouldn't yolk about that." Keith calmly shovels a forkful of space egg into his mouth and chews slowly, maintaining eye contact with Lance the whole time.

Lance's mouth opens and closes a few times, silently, and then he crumples dramatically to the floor. He lets out a long, high-pitched whine.

"Nice," says Pidge, and she offers her fist. Keith bumps it.

* * *

"Lance."

"Keith?"

Keith fidgets in the doorway of Lance's room, looking anywhere but at him. He's not sure if his request is going to be strange or not.

"...Can I have a hug?"

Lance blinks. Then he springs up off his bed and darts across the room.

"Absolutely yes, dude." He wraps his arms around Keith immediately and unreservedly. Keith digs his fingers into the back of Lance's shirt and ducks his head, burying half his face in Lance's shoulder.

Lance tugs him back, and they shuffle a little into the room so that the door can slide shut.

"Something up?" Lance asks.

"Mmf," says Keith.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Keith lifts his head a little and puffs out a sigh against Lance's neck. Lance shivers.

"Dunno," says Keith. "I'm not good at explaining myself."

"Oh, buddy, I know."

Keith snorts and pushes his nose into Lance's shoulder again.

"I can ask you questions instead. How's that? One grunt for yes and two for no."

Keith snorts again, but he nods.

"Or you can nod, that works too. Just try not to wipe your nose all over my shirt."

Keith wiggles his nose further into Lance's shoulder.

"Dude."

"Okay," mumbles Keith. "Just ask."

"Okay." Lance pauses. "Is it about Shiro?"

Yes. Yes, it's definitely about Shiro. Keith grunts.

"That was a yes, right?"

Grunt.

"Okay. You're worried about him."

"...That wasn't a question."

"Well, confirm or deny."

"...I guess so."

"Because he's out on a mission, and you're afraid he's gonna disappear again."

Keith hadn't been able to put his finger on it, but when Lance puts it into words his breath catches and his arms tighten. Lance rubs his back soothingly.

"Thought it'd be something like that," he says quietly. "Shiro's your favorite person."

Keith grunts. Now that he's been prompted, though, he can tell there's more to it.

"I can't protect him," he tells Lance's shirt. "If something happens, I won't be there."

Lance pulls him closer. "No, but Pidge is with him, and you know how Pidge is. She's not gonna let him out of her sight. And you know how _Shiro_ is; he always comes back. Like a really buff boomerang."

That surprises a laugh out of Keith, and he finally lifts his head.

"There we go," says Lance. "He's okay, Keith, and he's gonna come back."

"I know that here," says Keith, knocking the side of his head against Lance's. "But not in here." He pats Lance's back.

"Yeah. I get that."

* * *

"Left. _Left,_ Lance."

Lance stops entirely. "Mine or yours?"

"Both! We're facing the same direction!"

"Alright! Chill, dude."

Keith watches the little blue blip on his map start moving again. He doesn't have much else to do, other than try and distract his guard—Pidge—though Lance isn't close enough for it to be worth it.

They're playing some kind of Altean mashup of laser tag, a guided maze, and capture the flag, assigned according to their weaknesses—right now, Keith is his team's flag. Across the "field" Allura is guarding Shiro, and Lance and Hunk are somewhere in the middle, carrying out their solo rescue missions.

"How are you holding up, Allura?" Lance asks.

"Fine," she responds. "No sign of Hunk yet."

"He's probably, like, hiding. It's a shame you're not the prisoner, though."

"...And why is that?"

"Oh, y'know. On Earth a 'paladin' is a kind of knight, and knights rescuing princesses is kind of a big thing in human culture."

"I see."

"Rescuing other knights isn't as romantic," Lance adds. "Keith isn't much of a princess…"

There's a very pregnant pause.

"You're about to make a comment about my hair, aren't you," says Keith, drawing Pidge's attention.

He can practically hear Lance's grin. "You got it, Rapunzel."

Keith groans. Lance laughs.

"I assume Rapunzel is a princess of your legends?" Allura's voice is amused too, dammit.

"Yeah!"

Lance starts explaining. Keith stops listening, because now Pidge is talking to him.

"Let me guess. Lance called you Rapunzel."

Keith sighs. "I'd ask how you know but I'm not even surprised."

"Where is he?"

"I'm not gonna tell you that."

"Worth a shot."

Lance soon falls quiet, and then Allura mutters a short "quiznak" and the sound of Hunk's bayard fills the air. Keith checks his map and finds Lance still a few turns away.

"Lance, hurry up. And take a right."

"I'm coming, I'm coming, hang on."

Lance comes around the corner the moment the maze flashes green and disappears. Pidge cheers as Lance groans and dismisses his bayard.

"Allura!"

"Sorry!" She's at the far side of the room with a high-fiving Hunk and Shiro. "He pinned me down, I couldn't get close."

"I thought you were basically invincible!"

"Not quite," she says with a rueful chuckle.

Keith gets up from the circle he was trapped in and heads over to Lance, who's still pouting.

"I hope you get there in time if I'm ever actually in trouble," says Keith, elbowing him lightly. Lance side-eyes him, hard.

"I'm pretty sure you're invincible, too, Rapunzel."

"You can't compliment and make fun of me in the same sentence."

"I can and I _will_."

"Get over here, nerds!" Pidge shouts. "We're running the exercise again."

"Oh, goody." Keith starts walking.

* * *

Keith walks into Lance's room, flops face first onto the bed next to where Lance is sitting, and groans loudly.

"That bad, huh," says Lance.

"I hate parties," Keith says into the sheets. "I hate people."

Lance pats his shoulder. "Very bad, then."

Keith turns his head and glares at the side of Lance's thigh. "Allura _knows_ I'm shit at diplomacy. At least the fluffy side of things."

"That's… a way to put it."

"I don't know why I had to go instead of you or anyone else."

"You're Shiro's right-hand man, bud. It falls to you when he's not around."

Keith groans again. "I _know_ that."

"So what happened?" Lance scoots down to lounge against the wall. "Give me all the juicy details."

"Nothing really happened."

"Aww."

"I just couldn't _talk_ to anyone. They tried to talk to me but I didn't understand, so they'd give up. And it was boring and frustrating and Allura kept frowning at me like she thought it'd go better somehow."

"Was it a language barrier or, like, a metaphor barrier?"

"Kind of both." Keith shifts to rest his chin on the bed, and frowns at the wall. "That's just how their species communicates. Like in that episode of Star Trek."

"I'm sorry to say this, Keith, buddy, but I haven't seen enough Star Trek to get the reference, and you're a huge nerd."

"Whatever." Keith swats blindly at Lance's knee. "I like it better when people actually say what they mean."

"No kidding. That's like, a fundamental part of your personality, that you can't take a hint."

Keith shoots his hip a sideways glare. "Why would you talk around what you want to say when you can just say it? You do that a lot."

Lance flicks his shoulder. "I've gotten better, haven't I? I've been _trying_ to be blunt for you, anyway."

Keith hadn't noticed—but thinking back, it does seem like he's understood Lance better lately. Or, at least, not misunderstood him. Lance's mind works in ways he can't fathom sometimes.

"I guess so, yeah," he says.

Maybe it's okay, though. Maybe he doesn't _have_ to understand Lance. They don't have to always be on the same page to be friends. After all, they _are_ friends, and they are definitely not always on the same page.

But he appreciates that Lance tries, for him.

"Hey." Lance pats his arm. "Sit up so you don't wrinkle your nice suit. Don't give me that look, Allura will care even if you don't."

Keith grudgingly sits up.

"Now, what you need to do," Lance says, leaning in, "is to get Shiro to name _me_ second-in-command instead of you. Bam, problem solved."

Despite how tired he still feels—though his frustration has waned—Keith grins. "Not a chance."

" _Dammit_."

* * *

"Lance," Keith pants. "I have a very important question."

"How important?" Lance asks. His voice comes clear through Keith's helmet, a blessing when everything else is fuzzy with pain.

"Life or death."

Lance's breath catches. "What is it?"

Keith presses harder against the wound in his side and hisses in pain. He miscalculated; now he's tucked away in a corner, hidden, though the dead drones strewn around the room and the trail of blood will lead anyone that walks in right to him soon enough. The rest of the team is far above in their lions, out of reach.

"How soon can you get here?" he gasps.

"Shit." He hears the muffled sound of Lance's bayard firing, again and again. "Five minutes?"

Keith hears footsteps nearby. He wedges himself further back into his corner and weakly summons his bayard.

"Hurry," he whispers.

"On my way. Hang on, Keith, I'm coming. I'm coming."

Keith hangs on.

The footsteps take their time in approaching, passing through the hallway outside several times before they enter—or maybe it was more than one set of feet. Keith sucks in a breath and holds it as the door slides open. A voice speaks but he can't make out the words; its owner walks through the room agonizingly slowly. There's a thump and a clatter, metal against metal, and a shadow moves across the wall opposite Keith's hiding place.

"Still with me, Keith?" Lance asks, but Keith doesn't dare respond. His breath is shaky and shallow; Lance's is hard and fast in his ear.

"Shit," Lance mutters. _I'm still alive,_ Keith wants to say, but he feels faint and the footsteps are getting closer and he doesn't know for how much longer it'll be true.

The footsteps stop mere feet from Keith, probably where his blood trail starts. He lifts his bayard with one shaking hand, but his grip is loose and slippery with blood, and the arm pressed to his side feels weak.

"Please be alive," Lance is panting under his breath. "Please be alive, oh god."

The footsteps approach. A dark shape comes around the corner and spots him almost immediately, and it's an actual galra, not just a drone; they leer down at him and his wavering sword.

Keith's vision blurs and darkens at the edges and he can barely make out the rifle the galra lifts.

There's echoing sound, and a flash of light, and the dark shape topples. There's a smudge of blue and white, and brown.

"Keith!?"

He passes out.

* * *

When Keith stumbles out of the healing pod into Shiro's arms, Lance is there too.

"If you do that again I'm gonna murder you," he says.

Keith rests his head against Shiro's shoulder, letting him support his weight for the moment, and smiles weakly. "I'd like to see you try."

* * *

"Okay. Say 'tron.'"

"Tron."

"See, you can do it! So when _I_ say 'vol,' _you_ say 'tron.' Don't say 'Voltron!' Just 'tron.' Clear?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so let's give it a go. Vol?"

"Voltron."

Lance groans and flings himself back against the sofa, and Keith has to physically bite back his laughter.

"It's not that hard! Come _on,_ Keith."

Keith fails to hold it back anymore, and lets out an uneven splutter before dissolving into laughter. Lance stares at him.

"You were fucking with me. Bastard."

"S-sorry!" Keith wheezes.

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not." He takes a few deep breaths and settles, though the look on Lance's face almost sets him off again.

"Okay," says Lance, glaring at him though his reclined position completely ruins the effect. "We're gonna try this again, and this time you _aren't_ gonna do it wrong on purpose. You'd better not."

"Sure."

"Promise!"

"I promise."

Lance eyes him, squinting.

"Vol…?"

"Tron."

"Yes!" Lance shoots up from his seat and lurches into Keith, wrapping his arms around him in an awkward, elbow-filled hug. Keith grins and returns it anyway.

"You're still a bastard," Lance says into his shoulder.

"Technically, probably."

"I mean you're an asshole, asshole."

"You just bring out the worst in me, Lance."

"Fuck you." Lance squeezes him tighter, and Keith laughs.

* * *

"You've never seen the ocean?"

Keith lazily drags his arm across the surface of the water. "I have _now_ ," he says.

Lance is quite literally swimming circles around him, where he stands submerged to his armpits in the cool green water of a planet he can't pronounce the name of. Shiro and Hunk are lounging on the beach; Pidge is paddling happily nearby, a little closer to shore.

"Well, yeah, but _Earth_ oceans. You never saw any?"

"I'm from Arizona, Lance. I swam in pools."

" _Public_ pools?"

"Obviously."

"Ew."

Keith shrugs. "You just resign yourself to swimming in other people's sweat, and take a shower afterward."

"That's seriously disgusting, dude." Lance shudders, causing little ripples in the water around him. "And chlorine is so bad for your skin. It dries it right out. Speaking of, I think you're getting sunburned."

Keith looks down at his arms. It's hard to tell in the bright sunlight but yeah, he's starting to look a little red. He should have looked for some Altean sunscreen or something.

"You're gonna match your lion soon."

"I'm sure she'll be tickled pink about that."

Lance snorts. "Not as pink as you. I'll lend you my lotion when we get back."

"Thanks."

Lance stands, and tips back to float belly-up. Keith sinks lower to cool his burning shoulders until the waves are lapping against his mouth.

"By the way," says Lance, "when we get back to Earth, you're coming to Florida with me."

Keith lifts his head out of the water just a little, surprised. "Am I."

"Yup. I'm gonna take you to the beach. Not the big touristy ones, though, they're too crowded. But we're gonna get you some sunscreen first."

In Lance-speak, this is an invitation. "Sure."

Lance lifts his head; the motion makes the rest of him sink a little and he paddles to stay afloat. "Wait, really? You'll come?"

"Yeah, sounds like fun. It's not like I have anywhere else to be."

"Right, just you and your shack." Lance lowers his head again and resumes floating. "Man, that's sad. When Mom finds out she's gonna feed you more than you can eat. And like, I've seen you eat, and it'll still be too much. There's gonna be so much food."

He pats his stomach. Keith grins.

"You're making me hungry."

"I made myself hungry! Fuck, I'd kill for a pizza right now."

Lance goes quiet then, frowning, so Keith creeps closer and pounces on his stomach, sinking him. Lance comes back up spluttering.

"Ass!"

"When we go to Florida," Keith says through a laugh, even as he backs away from Lance's splashing, "we're gonna do more than eat and go to the beach, right?"

Lance brightens and stops splashing. "Oh, buddy. _So_ much more."

"Even the touristy stuff?"

" _Especially_ the touristy stuff. And I'll pay you to fight an alligator."

"How much?"

"Dunno."

"Charge admission, we can split the profits."

" _Hell_ yes."

Keith grins. "I can't wait."

* * *

"Sometimes," Lance says quietly, "I think I'm not good enough."

They're lying on Keith's bed—the menu of the movie they finished a while ago is looping endlessly on Pidge's extra laptop but neither has moved to turn it off.

"Not good enough for what?" Keith asks.

"All of this. The war and everything. Being a paladin. And before you ask, it's because I'm not good at anything."

"You're pretty good at a lot of things."

"I mean, I'm _okay,_ but I'm not a genius or a natural or, like… you."

Lance flops a hand over at him. Keith picks it up, and examines his fingers, long and thin and callused; Keith's own are scarred and pale and look stubby in comparison.

"I don't think you'd like being me," says Keith.

"Dunno, you seem to have it pretty good."

"I don't have a family. Before Voltron, all I had was Shiro."

"Mm. Okay, no, I wouldn't like that."

Keith hums along to the menu theme, idly playing with Lance's fingers. In the light of the laptop, Lance examines his other hand.

"I'm a good shot," he says eventually, though it comes out more like a question.

"Yep."

"I'm okay at other stuff, too."

"A little bit of everything."

"Jack of all trades," Lance says quietly, dropping his hand. "Master of none."

"But better than a master of one. That's the rest of the saying."

Lance's fingers curl around Keith's. "Is it really?"

"Yep."

"Why haven't I heard it before, then?"

"Because people that can only do one thing want to feel superior."

Lance snorts. "Do you?"

Keith smirks. "I can fly _and_ fight. That's two things."

Lance knocks their joined hands against Keith's chin. "Shocking display of self-awareness! Great job, Keith. Proud of you."

"Gee, thanks. The point is you're well-rounded; I'm not."

"Everyone knows you were gonna follow in Shiro's footsteps, though."

"Nope." Keith shakes his head. "I couldn't've."

"Don't even try to tell me you don't have the skill."

"But not the charisma."

"...Fair point."

"You'd've gotten there before I did."

" _Now_ you're bullshitting me."

"Nope." Now Keith knocks their hands against Lance's cheek. "You're persistent. It wouldn't've been easy, but you would've done it. I'd've been stuck on solo missions and wouldn't've gotten farther than Mars because no one would want to fly with me."

"I'd fly with you."

"You would _now_."

"Mm. I guess I wouldn't have at the Garrison." Lance drops their hands down between them. "Man, I wouldn't even be friends with you if we'd stayed at the Garrison."

"You might've still gotten over yourself."

" _Hey,_ now."

"I mean it. You're smart. You would've realized I wasn't competing with you eventually."

Lance tears their hands apart so he can cross his arms. "You're such an ass."

Keith turns his head and grins at him. "But you'd fly with me."

Lance pouts at him. Keith keeps grinning, and lifts his hand. The pout wobbles, and then Lance huffs and unfolds and takes Keith's hand again.

"Hate you."

"Hate you too."

* * *

Keith and Lance stand at the top of a hill, hidden in the foliage. Below is the base where the rest of the team is holed up, pinned down and trapped—not yet captured, but still in need of rescue.

Lance shifts a little closer, so their shoulders brush, and slips his hand into Keith's.

"We got this, right?" he says.

"Hell yes we do."

Lance grins, and lifts his other fist in front of them. Keith bumps it and they both make explosion noises as they wiggle their fingers away.

"Let's go."

"Right behind you, bud."

* * *

"You were really surprised when I invited you home?" Lance dramatically clutches the towel around his neck; they're in the elevator on the way down to the pool. "After everything we've been through together? I'm hurt."

Keith shrugs. "You surprise me a lot."

Lance pauses. The elevator dings, and they step out.

"In a good way, or a bad way?" he asks finally.

"Good, most of the time." Keith thinks back. "Lately, always. It meant a lot to me."

Lance stops walking. "Really?"

Keith pauses too. "Yeah. I don't have anyone back on Earth. Dunno if my shack is even still standing. It's not really home. So I'm excited to see yours."

Lance doesn't respond. Keith turns and meets his eyes, and sees the tears gathering in them.

"Here's another surprise!" he mutters, half to himself, quickly stepping in and reaching up. He cups Lance's face and brushes away the tears that get dislodged when Lance blinks.

Lance gives a watery chuckle. "Is it good or bad?"

"You tell me."

Lance loops his fingers lightly around Keith's wrists, and closes his eyes. "It's good. Definitely."

"Good."

Lance sways in closer, eyes still closed and face peaceful between Keith's hands, and Keith gets an idea that makes his heart race and his palms sweat. He hopes Lance can't feel it.

"Do I ever surprise you?" he asks quietly.

"All the time," Lance whispers.

"Good or bad?"

"Good, but if you don't do what I think you're gonna do you're gonna ruin your streak."

Keith laughs, and kisses him.

He doesn't know what he's doing, really, but that doesn't stop Lance from responding, pressing in closer. Their noses bump and teeth click and they pull back to laugh and breathe, and then move in again, finding a better angle. Lance's hands travel down Keith's sides, warm, and his lips are soft, and Keith melts into him.

It's not perfect, but it's exactly what he wanted.

Keith pulls back, eventually, but not far; their noses brush and he leaves his hands where they are.

"Do you think," Lance asks, words puffing against Keith's lips, "this was inevitable?"

"...No," says Keith. "I think we made the right decisions."

"Yeah?" Lance bumps their foreheads together. "What decisions did you make?"

"I decided to figure you out," says Keith. "And then I decided I didn't have to. And then I decided to kiss you."

"That last one's my favorite."

"Of course it is."

"You know what I just decided?" Lance is grinning in his peripheral vision.

"What?"

"I'm gonna kiss you again." And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> they make it to the pool eventually
> 
> hmu @ [maternalcube](http://maternalcube.tumblr.com/) on tumblr
> 
> EDIT: [theres art now](http://artarete.tumblr.com/post/163022482451/youd-fly-with-me-doodled-a-handful-of-scenes-from) :3c


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